


Broken Glass

by paralyticdreamer



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Dan Howell and Phil Lester Are Teenagers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Medication, Mental Institutions, Selectively Mute Dan Howell, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, This is extremely dark, dan and phil love each other a lot but you can’t really tell tbh, dan is kinda sorta maybe severely depressed, dan takes so much medication for insomnia and anxiety and depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 01:27:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21867742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paralyticdreamer/pseuds/paralyticdreamer
Summary: Dan Howell has the mindset of a glass. The glass represents his mental health and with each damaging thing to his mental health, the glass chips or cracks, depending on the severity of it. It chipped when his dad died.Dan has distanced himself from everyone and everything since then, showing no affection and becoming selectively mute.When he moves to Manchester, he meets Phil Lester, who he can't help but want to be closer to, despite Phil's never-ending optimism.The glass will shatter if Dan doesn't distance himself as far away from Phil as possible. But how can he do that when Phil is basically like a magnet and Dan is the metal that's so goddamn attracted to him?
Relationships: Dan Howell & Phil Lester, Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i decided to transfer this fic from wattpad earlier than intended because i hate that website a Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan moves to Manchester and meets Phil

"Dan? Would you please help me bring some boxes in?"

The boy mentioned only stared at his mother before she sighed and went back outside to bring more boxes in. He continued to stare at his phone, his interest locked onto a video on Instagram about how to make cheesecake. He had no interest in making cheesecake, but it looked good and if he watched the video enough, he might want to make it later.

After the last box had been brought in, Dan decided to continue ignoring his mum and instead of speaking to her, found boxes of his things and began to carry each box up to his room. They'd moved to a nice house in Manchester, which was quite a while away from Reading where Dan had grown up.

In this house, Dan's bedroom was a bit bigger than his previous one and he had a walk-in closet as well as his own bathroom. His bathroom only had a shower instead of a tub/shower combo, but since he didn't take baths he didn't care too much about not having a bathtub.

After unpacking everything, Dan decided to take a shower. Moving three hours away from home and unpacking had exhausted him and he knew that by taking a shower then sleeping so early in the day, he wouldn't see his mum leave for god knows how long and it wouldn't seem like he was alone for that long.

But sleeping only made the amount of time seem shorter than it actually was, and no matter how long Dan slept, it still felt like a merely miniscule amount of time. So by the time he woke up, it had felt like minutes he was asleep rather than a few hours.

His mum had registered him for school at least two days before (he was entirely unsure), so today happened to be his first day at a new school. There weren't any uniforms unlike at his previous school so Dan settled on wearing nearly all black with black shoes to match, and he straightened his hair to keep at least one part about him straight.

Nobody cared about sexuality at his last school, but as he knew next-to-nothing about this new school, he decided to play it safe and disguise the fact that he wasn't entirely straight. He could be gay and sad in peace, and _just_ sad in public.

He brushed his teeth—which took longer than normal—and combed his hair to make sure his curls didn't break free, then grabbed his backpack, weighted by the supplies he would need for school, and his phone—with headphones, of course—then headed out the door. There was also a bus, which Dan had frowned at.

He'd always hated buses, and this time was no different. They always smelled wrong and felt weirdly sticky every single time. Dan was sure that this bus would be no different and as it pulled up, he knew he was correct. This bus has paint chipping and the inside smelled probably worse than other buses he'd been on.

He held his breath as he got on and found an empty seat toward the front. He never really did find interest in the back of the bus, where most of the rotten food and old milk would be; the front was better because at the front was the door and people at the front usually got off first.

Eventually, after the bus was packed full, it pulled up in front of the school and Dan was one of the first people off. However, it was almost war as everyone wanted off first, so he was constantly pushed and shoved while the driver chewed her gum and did nothing.

When Dan finally entered the school he nearly fainted. This was the first time he'd been there and he had no idea how massive it was. He didn't know where any of his classes were and the main hall was a jumbled mess of teenagers and a few staff members.

He looked down at his schedule, letting his eyes find his locker number. 212. As soon as his eyes had found the number, he walked over to the nearest person who looked like an adult. "Uh, excuse me? I, um... _lockers_. I'm new," he said quickly and quietly, and the person who was a teacher (thankfully) turned to him. She wore her graying hair up into the tighest knot and her face showed wrinkles despite her looking barely over thirty.

"Oh, sorry. Yes, the lockers are all the way down there," she explained, pointing to a hallway at the far end of the massive main area. Dan nodded and began walking, keeping out of the way of students either huddled together in friend groups or stood alone.

When he finally found his locker, there was someone next to it fumbling with the combination on their own locker. " _Stupid_ thing," the boy muttered and continued his attempt at unlocking the metal door.

He gave up, annoyed, and looked at Dan. Without saying anything, he rushed away from the lockers and up a set of stairs. Dan shrugged and walked over to his own locker. After glancing at his schedule he twisted the combination lock and opened the door with ease, and shoved his things into his locker.

He grabbed a notebook, a binder and a pencil out, clipped the notebook into the binder and shoved the pencil into his back pocket. Then he went to his first class, which was English. Well, _some_ sort of English class. He hadn't looked at which type of English he was taking, just the room number and that it was an English class. He figured that if he could get there somewhat early, then he could figure out what he would need for class and for his mum to sign... or something like that.

He figured out that Mrs Aiko was a Japanese-English woman, born in Kyoto to a Japanese father and an English mother, and raised in Reading. She liked things tidy, wore her long dark hair in a high ponytail and presumably dressed quite casual. She wore makeup as well. Her accent was a mix of Japanese and English, and she spoke in Japanese a lot when students got on her nerves. She was immediately Dan's favorite teacher.

His History teacher was a man by the name of Ocean. He wore clothes that would be considered hippie clothing and kept his hair long, but pulled back. Apparently his parents were hippies and wanted to name their son something unique—hence, Ocean. He allowed people to call him by his first name and would listen to bands and artists from the sixties and seventies, like The Beatles and The Doors and Led Zeppelin.

His Maths teacher was the one whom he had met earlier in the morning and her name was Ms Costello. She was recently divorced from her high school sweetheart, who she'd married and they'd divorced because he'd cheated on her with his nurse. She had graying hair from the stress she'd been put under since she found out he was cheating.

His Chemistry teacher was also the Gym teacher. He wore polo shirts to show off his rather large biceps that made his head look too small for his body. He was intimidating because of how much he enjoyed talking about anything Chemistry-related and everything involving Physical Education.

Lunch was boring, but his art class was enjoyable. He'd gotten to draw any animal he chose (he chose a frog because it was easy). The art teacher was American and she always dressed in maxi dresses with sandals. She was in her early-twenties and had gone to art school specifically to teach art. Her name was Ms Felding.

The boy Dan had seen near his locker was in every single one of his classes. He wouldn't look at Dan or speak to him, even when Dan was assigned to the desk right next to him. Not that Dan cared, anyhow, as he hadn't planned on speaking to him either.

At the end of the day, his Maths teacher called him and the boy to her desk. Before she had a chance to get him to speak, he handed her a folded up piece of paper that said the he didn't speak, his mum's signature expertly forged. "Ah," she said, nodding. "Well, alright then," she said, despite knowing quite well that he did speak and that he'd spoken to her that morning, but she said nothing. "Anyways, Dan, this is Phil. Phil, this is Dan."

So the boy's name was Phil. Funny, he didn't look like a Phil—he looked more like a Kyle, not a Phil.

Dan waved—the wave being a swift movement of his hand from right to left—and Phil greeted him with a soft, "hi". Dan knew he could've been louder, but as a selective mute, he knew not to judge someone based on their loudness when speaking.

“Now, you're probably wondering why I called you both up here," she stated and both Dan and Phil nodded. "Well, I thought that, since you've no partner for the year-long project Phil, maybe _Dan_ could be your partner."

Her suggestion made no sense to Dan. They barely even knew each other—in fact, they didn't know one another apart from class—so, why would Ms Costello pair them up? This baffled Dan.

“I mean, I could do it by myself no problem. How are we supposed to work together if he doesn't talk?" Phil inquired and Ms Costello shrugged, her earrings shifting as she moved. "Well... maybe you could _help_ him talk. There's probably a reason he doesn't speak, but maybe you could help him."

Dan stared at her, then Phil, a wide-eyed expression painted across his face, and his eyes darted between them. He didn't want to talk, and no stupid teachers or stupid boys would get him to.

He looked at his phone and frowned. Now he'd have to walk home.

Dan's expression must've alerted Ms Costello, because a guilty look spread across her face. "Oh dear," she said. "I had no idea it would take this long. Here, take this packet. Is there any way your mother could come get you?" she asked and Dan shook his head as he took the packet and put it in his notebook.

“Again, Dan, I do apologize," she continued and Dan shrugged before leaving the room. The hallways were almost completely deserted aside from a few staff members and some Year 11 boys kicking around a football.

Dan sighed as he walked to his locker. He barely knew his way around Manchester, let alone how to get from school to home and vice versa.

He pulled his phone out and sent a quick text to his mum (‘ _gonna be late. not that you care’_ ) and opened his locker. He pulled out his backpack and shoved his Maths notebook and folder into it, not caring whether or not anything got wrinkled. He had problems much worse than wrinkled papers.

Dan shoved his phone into his pocket angrily after the headphones were attached and stuck the pods in his ears. Apple headphones sucked, but they were the only ones that would let him listen to music in peace.

He then walked outside, where it was slightly windy, and being November, that made him begin to shiver.

“Dan!”

Dan turned to see Phil running to catch up with him so he pulled the earpod out and stopped, allowing him to catch up.

Dan raised his brow in confusion. "I wanted to talk to you about the project," Phil explained and Dan shrugged before pulling out a piece of paper and a pencil. He scribbled something down and handed the piece of paper to Phil.

‘ _i don't talk_ ' it said, smudged from Dan writing with his left hand. Phil smiled. "Well, d'you text? That isn't talking," he said and Dan shrugged, then nodded and unlocked his phone. He pulled up his contacts and tapped the '+' icon to add a new one, then handed it to Phil.

Dan watched as Phil typed, the clicking of the keyboard being unusually loud, and was unaware that he was being handed the phone back. "I texted myself so I could have your number in my phone as well," Phil said and Dan nodded slowly.

“So," Phil began as they walked, "are you purposefully mute or did something make you go mute?" he asked and Dan pulled his phone out.

' _i chose to stop speaking_ ', he typed and heard Phil's phone ding. "Oh," he said. "Well, do you think you'll ever speak again?"

’ _probably not_ ’

Another ding. "Will you at least tell me why you don't speak?" Phil asked and Dan shook his head. ' _its too personal_ ', he sent and Phil nodded. "Okay, that's fine," he said, smiling. Dan didn't smile back.

While they walked side-by-side, Dan began to see familiarity in his surroundings. He realized that he now knew where he was at and how to get home, but he didn't want Phil to leave; he knew his mother wouldn't be home and he knew that he didn't want to be alone. The glass chipped when he was alone, and was very close to shattering.

When Dan was younger he'd conjured up the mental image of a glass to describe how he was feeling. The glass was fine, at least, until his dad died, then there was a chip. The glass was like Dan's mental health; if it shattered, he too, would shatter and that would be the end of it. No more glass equalled no more Dan.

Dan didn’t like being alone.

As if by some odd coincidence, Dan and Phil lived on the same street. Dan only knew this because as soon as he stepped onto his front porch, Phil walked inside of a large bright blue house just a few meters away.

As Dan had expected, his mother was gone; no note had been left, so Dan decided that she could be anywhere—she could've gone to Hell, for all he cared. But as if the universe wanted him to hate it even more than he already did, his mother's car pulled into the driveway.

She walked in the door and looked particularly confused at her son being home. "I thought you were going to be late," she said and Dan shrugged before going up to his room, once again refusing to speak to her.

‘ _thank you_ ', he sent to Phil when he pulled his bag off of his back and got an instant reply. ' _For what?_ '

Dan sent back another text. ' _for kind of helping me get home. idk my way around manchester_ '

His phone dinged with another text from Phil. ' _Oh, yeah, no problem. I've lived here my entire life so I know my way around fairly well_ '

Dan didn't reply; instead, he locked his phone and tossed it onto his bed. Then he changed into a pair of dark grey sweatpants and a black Muse t-shirt, which was simple in the way that it had just the logo on the front. No interesting details—just like every single piece of clothing he owned; monochrome colored and plain.

Dan's room was also dark, and quite boring to be fair. There was no color—not even on the two posters that hung on his wall; one was a Muse poster and the other was a poster with the Skyrim logo on it. He hadn't even really played Skyrim; he knew of the game, and what the basic plot of the game was, but he'd maybe played only the beginning of it. After that, he got bored and never touched it again.

Actually there was a tiny bit of color; it was from a stuffed bear his mum had bought not long ago, and the bowtie was a bright blue. But it was torn so much that you could barely even tell what it was.

Dan opened the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out two bottles.

"One pill, three times a day," he muttered, opening the bottle. He poured a blue pill into his hand and placed it in his mouth, then swallowed it. He shoved the bottle back into the drawer carelessly and turned the other bottle around.

"Take two pills once a day, as needed," Dan read off, laughed dryly, and poured two of the grey capsules out of the bottle. He put those in his mouth and took a sip of water before swallowing them.

And he sighed before lying on his bed. Then his phone was connected to the charger and he sighed again, closing his eyes. After a few minutes, Dan fell fast asleep, dreaming of nothing and everything all at once.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The explanation of the glass. Also, Phil learns that Dan is a piano prodigy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is still kinda sorta an introduction of some kind, so bear with me lol

Dan didn't really remember what it was like before The Glass came into existence. He was quite young, if eight years old was considered young, and there was nothing better than a glass to describe himself.

He'd seen a glass shatter before; it was one of his grandmother's favorite and most expensive wine glasses, and when it fell, Dan watched as it broke into tiny little shards. He'd been to blame for it breaking, but as he was only two years old, he wasn't punished.

Instead, his grandmother pretended that it didn't happen. She swept it up and tossed it away like it meant nothing to her. She'd passed away a month later, which is when he'd decided that if anything bad ever happened to him, a glass would be perfect.

Six years later, his dad died, and the glass was an image burned into his brain, a chip clearly at the top of it.

That's what was on Dan's mind when he woke up the next morning, so he took another blue pill and followed it with a sip of water that wasn't entirely necessary, but it was what was normal.

The medication was normal, his silence around everyone except himself was normal, the absence of color in his life was normal, The Glass was normal.

And the constant ache in both his brain and heart were normal, or at least that's what he told himself.

Dan quickly dressed in his usual all-black clothing, grabbed school essentials and walked out the door after straightening his hair.

He could see Phil walk out the door of his own house in a rush, then watched as Phil made eye contact with him before running to meet up with him. It had been decided that they'd walk to and from school together before Dan had gone to bed, and Dan had agreed with one simple word: Okay.

"You're up early?" Phil said, surprised, and Dan pulled his phone from his pocket. ' _and you're up late_ ', he sent and Phil laughed. "My alarm didn't technically _go off_ ," he said, brushing his hands on his jeans. "Mum woke me up about ten minutes ago, so I had that much time to get ready, resulting in this," he continued, gesturing towards his tousled hair and semi-crooked glasses.

' _it's a good look for you_ ', he typed, smirking as Phil read the text—which was met with Phil straightening his glasses and smoothing his hair. "Is that better?" he asked. Dan looked at him with a blank stare and shrugged, then shoved his phone into his back pocket.

"Why don't you ever talk?" Phil asked as they walked, much to Dan's annoyance, and Dan's phone was once again removed from his pocket. ' _i already told you. it's too personal. stop asking._ ', he sent, each phrase being sent separately and in succession, and he heard Phil's phone ding three times.

"I'm sorry," Phil said softly, "it's just that... how am I supposed to work on the project with you if you don't speak? It's due on the last day of school."

Dan shrugged. ' _i just don't talk. i'm sorry._ ', he said and watched as Phil read the text.

"I bet you have a nice voice," Phil whispered, and Dan pretended that he hadn't heard.

* * *

The rest of the ten-minute walk was spent in silence, which Dan enjoyed. He didn't like it when people rambled on and on, especially when he couldn't respond.

There was something about Phil Lester that Dan just... didn't like, and he had no idea why. Maybe it was Phil's constant happiness, and the reason for Dan not liking it was because he himself wasn't happy, and only felt somewhat normal after taking his antidepressants.

During the walk, Dan went over the compliment in his head.

I bet you have a nice voice.

Was his voice nice? He could only recall speaking softly each time he spoke. His voice was low and unusually quiet for someone his age, as if he'd been quite talkative before but was now... well, _silent._

Dan walked into the bathroom and hid in a stall as soon as he got to school. "This is... _nice_?" he asked himself, his voice low and painfully quiet—kind of like a mumble, but a bit easier to understand than someone who was mumbling. Dan would know; he mumbled quite a lot to himself, mainly when he was thinking or reading from one of his pill bottles.

Dan was someone who thought out loud, but only to himself, as he wanted to keep up the facade of being mute—well, _selectively_ mute.

He didn't like to think of himself as mute, he just didn't find the idea of speaking that facinating. He'd rather be quiet and have everybody leave him alone.

"I bet you have a nice voice," he said in a sarcastic tone, but the sarcasm was barely there due to how low his voice was, and he left the stall. Then he went to his locker, where Phil was once again getting annoyed with his own. Dan twisted his own lock and pushed up, watching as the door instantly opened.

"Hey, er, Dan?" he heard Phil ask and turned to face him. "Well, er... I was- I was just _wondering_ if..." he said and Dan pulled out his phone.

' _if i would help you open your locker?_ ', he sent and Phil nodded. "Yeah," he said, pink beginning to dust his cheeks, and Dan tried desperately not to laugh.

"It's er, _10-19-09_ ," he said and Dan twisted Phil's combination lock to the right four times before stopping at the ten, twisted it to the left one and a half times before landing on the nineteen, then twisted it right again until it landed on the nine. Phil's eyes widened as his locker door swung open.

“How'd you do that? I usually have to get someone to _help_ me open it!" he exclaimed and Dan shrugged. Out of spite, he unlocked his phone and sent Phil a link for a WikiHow on opening locker doors. He followed it with a text that said ' _use it well_ ', and grabbed the things from his locker that he'd need for his first two lessons.

"Haha, I get it. Dan Howell is so freaking _funny_ for sending me a WikiHow on how to open my locker, then following it with a Harry Potter quote," Phil said, sarcasm leaking through his words, and Dan couldn't help but exhale sharply through his nose. Phil didn't swear, and he found it _absolutely fucking hilarious._

' _lmao you don't swear_ ', he sent and watched as Phil checked his phone. "No, I _do_ ," he defended, "just not around people."

And Dan began to laugh—it was a hoarse laugh, and you could barely tell he was even laughing, but he laughed. He laughed so hard at Phil not swearing that it made tears come out of his eyes and it made his stomach begin to cramp.

Phil glared at him, but at the realization that Dan was _laughing_ , his glare softened. "You have a nice laugh," he stated matter-of-factly, causing Dan's laughter to stop. And he closed his locker door harshly before leaving Phil standing confused in the corridor.

At lunch, Phil decided to sit with Dan, and the sixteen year old didn't object. "You _do_ have a nice laugh," he stated and Dan shrugged. He knew Phil was lying—he'd heard it himself and definitely didn't think it was nice.

‘ _no, it sounds like a dying flock of geese. that seems like the total opposite of nice._ ', he typed, then hit send as he opened the one pound bottle of water from the vending machine and took a drink.

"Well I think it sounds nice," Phil retorted and Dan sighed. There was no arguing with anyone who said something nice about him; it always ended up turning into an argument, which in turn caused him to have a panic attack and begin crying because of how much he wanted the yelling to stop.

He shook his head, removing the thought, and stood up. Then he left without asking if he could. And he walked.

There were thirty minutes remaining until lunch was over, so Dan decided to explore the school. It would be good to know his way around and be able to get to class without having to follow Phil around.

Yes, it was nice being able to find his lessons with no problem, but he wanted to do it by himself.

So Dan began walking, letting his eyes fall over various room numbers and decorated doors until he came across a room right next to his art class. It said two simple words that almost made Dan's heart skip a beat: _Music Room._

Dan had loved music ever since he was a kid, tapping on tables to create rhythm or banging on a toy xylophone he'd gotten for Christmas one year. His dad, noticing how Dan was drawn to making music with his hands, bought him a used keyboard about a month before he died. Dan picked it up almost immediately, and was able to easily play quite a few songs with no issues whatsoever.

For a recent birthday, his mum had gotten him a small white piano. She'd saved up for ages until she found a nice white one for Dan to play. But Dan had sworn off of it since his dad had passed.

So when he peered through the window and saw a shiny new grand piano, he couldn't help but let a tear escape from watery brown eyes.

At a glance on the door itself, he noticed a note that allowed free use of any instruments in the room. He glanced at the time. Twenty minutes until lunch was over.

Dan sighed and slowly opened the door before stepping in and turning on the light. Instantly, the room lit up. Dan could see various instruments in all shapes, sizes and colors, but his main focus was the piano.

He walked over to it and ran his fingers along the keys, lightly pushing on a few as he did so, then he sat down. More tears threatened to spill as he began to play a simple song, but he smiled. He hadn't played in so long, and it was calming.

Dan began to change his pace and the order of notes he played until he found himself playing Vincent Valentine's theme from Final Fantasy 7.

He didn't notice that the door had opened, or that Phil Lester was watching him from the door—he was so immersed in playing.

As Dan's pace slowed, Phil opened his mouth to speak. "I thought I was the only one that ever used this room anymore," he said and Dan flinched before turning to face him. "May I sit?" Phil asked and Dan shrugged before moving to the side a bit.

Phil pushed a couple of the keys. "You... you're really good at piano, you know. My mum always wanted me to learn but I couldn't be bothered," he said before gesturing to a violin sat in a corner. "Then I stumbled upon this room and of course, the instruments are for free use, so I walked in and picked up that violin."

Phil stood and walked over to the instrument and picked it up. "It wasn't long after I first started at this school—probably during my first week—that I found this room. I picked up this violin and began to play. I was surprisingly okay at it, too," he said and began to play. Although shaky, his arm moved the bow over the strings gracefully and the sound that came out of it was the most beautiful thing Dan had ever heard.

The violin was put down and Phil smiled. "C'mon, the lesson begins soon," he said and Dan nodded. He followed Phil out of the room and they waited by the door of the art room.

Dan was appalled at the fact that Phil was a violin-type of person. He'd pegged Phil as more of a drumset or guitar type of person—not violin. But it gave him a new perspective on the blue-eyed boy—a more _optimistic_ perspective.

Only two people had known that Dan could play—his mum and dad. Now, a third person knew, and Dan didn't actually hate the fact that Phil knew. He just prayed that he didn't have to tell him that it'd been given up, or that there was a piano that sat catching dust in his bedroom, broken and hidden by a blanket.

Phil didn't have to know that he'd stopped, and his mum didn't have to know that he played again; it was a win-win situation. Now, would he start playing again? He'd have to. Phil had caught him playing. He couldn't just go back to ignoring all of it.

* * *

"When did you start playing?" Phil asked as they were walking home. Ms Costello had assigned homework, but with a twist; the homework was project-related, meaning they had to work on it with the partner they had for said project. Dan was going to Phil's house instead of Phil going to his.

This was a good thing, according to Dan Howell. Ever since Phil had heard him playing piano, Dan wanted to avoid Phil going to his house and wanting to know what was hidden under the blanket. So when Phil had asked who's house they were going to, Dan immediately suggested his house. He'd lied, saying his mum was ill and that it was ' _quite contagious_ '.

So yeah, Dan was going to Phil's house and they'd only known each other for a full twenty-four hours.

' _when i was 7_ ', he told Phil and put his phone back in his pocket. Phil nodded. "Okay," he began. "I was ten when my mum wanted me to learn. In fact, I'd just turned ten a month prior."

Dan removed his phone from his pocket and began typing.

' _my dad got me an old keyboard less than a month before i turned 8._ ', he sent, then decided that his dad's death wasn't too personal, so he sent another text. ' _a month after i got my keyboard, my dad died. my mum says it was a car crash._ ', he lied and Phil frowned.

"Dan, I'm so sorry," he said and a smile ghosted across the brunette's lips. By now, they were on Phil's front porch.

"My mum doesn't usually get home until late and my dad's still asleep because he works at night, so be quiet until we get to my room," Phil said and Dan nodded.

The scent of newly-washed laundry hit Dan's nostrils as soon as he stepped into the air-conditioned front hall. He could see a table with a plant on it, and above it was a picture of four people; Dan assumed it was Phil's immediate family, judging by two adults and a college-aged boy. And of course, a beaming Phil.

"That's my brother, Martyn. He went away to University when I was in Year 9," Phil explained quietly and led Dan up a set of stairs. He pointed to a room at the end of the hall. "That's my parents' room. And this," he began, and opened a door to Dan's immediate right, "is my room."

They stepped inside and Dan was hit with loads of color. Blue and green on the bed, blue walls, various posters. He could also see a bunch of knickknacks, plushies and a TV with video game systems, an array of video games surrounding them.

“Sorry, my room's a bit of a mess. If I'd've known you were coming over, I'd've cleaned up," Phil apologized. Dan shrugged, and Phil sat on his bed. Dan stood perfectly still, unsure of what he was supposed to do.

"You can sit down, you know," Phil stated, then his eyes widened. "We need snacks. What do you like? There's Coke, Mountain Dew. We also have cookies, chips..."

Phil trailed off and Dan made his way over to Phil's desk chair, then pulled his phone from his pocket and sat down.

‘ _chips are okay, and a water would be fine thanks_ ', he typed and heard a ding, then watched as Phil unlocked his phone. "Water and crisps it is," he said before getting up and leaving the room.

When Phil left, Dan could just barely catch the scent of honey following him. Had he _always_ smelled of honey, or was this something new? Dan shrugged and twisted in the chair, letting his feet guide him.

As soon as Phil returned, Dan stopped his spinning and glanced at the many snacks he held in his arms. Two bottles of water and a family size bag of Lays chips—the wavy ones. Phil had also brought some french onion chip dip.

“So, now to discuss the project…”

* * *

Once it had hit six pm, Dan gathered his things up. They'd done the homework after Phil had explained exactly what the project was, then they played some Halo and finished the chips.

' _this was fun_ ', he typed and Phil nodded once he read the message. "Yeah, it was," he said and watched as Dan left.

Once Dan had stepped into his bedroom, he tossed everything onto his bed and scrambled to take his medication. He took a blue pill, and followed it by a white tablet. He shuddered as he swallowed the tablet and sighed. "Another day finished," he said to himself, groaning.

Dan found it to be an effort to even get out of bed in the mornings. Yeah, the pills helped, but they weren't enough to change his disposition from sad to joyful, like they were supposed to do. Instead, they made him feel numb, like he wanted to feel. Dan didn't want to feel anything except for numb.

Even though he found some strange sort of friendship in Phil, he didn't trust him. He didn't trust anyone anymore, especially after the incident which Dan chose to ignore.

Dan stood up and walked over to an object covered by a black fabric, then tore it off. He looked at the piano and frowned. It was basically ruined; Dan had taken a bat to it and hit it until he could no longer do anymore damage to it. The keys were broken and the wood was to the point of splintering.

He'd hated his mum for bringing back such an awful memory that he smashed it the second it was given to him. Dan had seen how hurt she was, but he didn't care. All he wanted was for the memory to go away; for it to be forgotten.

Dan pushed one of the broken keys and winced when it made a _plink_ sound. Each key he'd pushed after had made the same sound—that awful sound which made Dan want to cry out of frustration.

He decided that the best thing for the piano was the bin, so he dragged some of it down to the front yard and put it at the corner of the driveway. He did the same thing with the rest of it and sighed, then he returned inside and closed the door, locking it.

"What have I done?" he whispered, staring outside at the broken piano.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whaddya think so far? does it hold up to expectations, or… does it not? lemme know! i want the chapters to be fairly long, but not too long tbh


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan doesn’t go to school and Phil finds out a little more about him.

Dan didn't go to school the next two days. He hadn't had the effort to get out of bed, let alone leave the house, so he messaged Phil both days and told him that he was ill, but that he'd be going to school on Friday.

Being ill wasn't technically a lie, as he actually was ill—just not physically ill. He had medication to prove that he was ill.

Dan checked his drawer the morning after he was at Phil's and groaned as he shook the orange bottles.

' _almost out of pills_ ', he sent to his mother and didn't get a reply, which meant that she was busy; Dan didn't know what his mum did, but he did know that it came with a lot of money, which is why he had so many things and it was the reason they lived in this house.

Dan found himself wondering what Phil's parents did. They lived in a house that was as equally as nice as Dan's; maybe even _nicer_ than his.

His phone vibrated with a text from his mum. ' _Will get u sum more 2day_ ', was the reply. Yeah, she was the type of person who texted like that.

Dan silently thanked the universe for the fact that he would get more. The pills kept him sane and kept The Glass from shattering. When he took them, The Glass was stitched up for a bit—at least, until they wore off. Then it was back to its previous state.

He had to take five different pills—one for insomnia, three for depression and one for anxiety—and he hated every single one, but if it helped, he didn't mind taking five. Although, there were only two he was supposed to take daily—a green one he didn't know the name of for insomnia, and a blue one he also didn't know the name of. He took Xanax, one of the antidepressants was Prozac and the other was yet another he hadn't bothered to pay attention to the name of.

Dan stayed in bed most of the day Wednesday and in silent tears, only getting up to use the bathroom. Then he just returned to the exact same position and continued silently suffering and sobbing quietly. Days like this were often either caused by Dan forgetting to take his medication, or when he dreaded going to school.

This was the fault of the former. Being tired on Tuesday night caused him to fall asleep much earlier than he wanted to, thus forgetting to take the pill that would keep this from happening.

So yes, Dan forgot to take his medication, and because of that, he lied in bed, crying and whispering awful things to and about himself. He was just glad nobody would see him like this; this vulnerable, broken and sad boy, incapable of functioning without medication.

Dan knew he couldn't function without the pills; if he were to nearly have a panic attack over something small and meaningless—like being at Phil's—he popped a Xanax into his mouth. If he wanted to feel happy— _overjoyed_ , even—then Prozac was the way to go. If he wanted to feel numb, all three antidepressants were shoved into his mouth and followed by water.

On Thursday, Dan remembered to take the pills when the bottle'd said to, so it was a fairly normal day. He showered, ate a bowl of cereal and took the trash out. Then he showered again because he hadn't scrubbed enough or gotten his entire body clean—or so he told himself.

After the second shower, Dan pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, wanting to hide his body as much as possible. He also didn't want Phil to recognise him once school was let out. He put on a pair of black Vans and pulled the hood over his head, not caring if his hair was still wet or not, then left the house, carrying his keys and phone in his pocket.

He began walking, not bothered by the fact that he didn't even know where he was at. He knew that generally, it was in town—there were shops and he could faintly see the Manchester eye if he squinted, so he knew it wasn't the main area of the city.

Dan walked into a music shop. Half of it specialized in CDs, records, etc and the other half specialized in instruments. His eyes fell onto a plain black upright piano. It was fairly shiny and looked nearly brand new.

Dan walked over to the piano and almost immediately, the shop assistant rushed over to him. "May I help you?" he asked and Dan shrugged. "I was just looking," he explained and the shop assistant grinned in a way that said, _You won't be ‘just looking’ for long_. "So, you've your eye set on the piano we just got in yesterday. She's a beaut, ain't she?"

Dan nodded. It _was_ a nice piano. "How much?" he asked and almost fainted when he'd been told the price.

One thousand pounds. Dan only had fifty to his name and knew his mum wouldn't get him another one after what happened to the last one. "Yeah, I was just looking," he muttered before leaving the store and frowned as he walked back the way he'd come.

When his house came into view, he noticed that Phil had started to walk in the direction of his own home, but watched as he changed direction and began walking towards Dan.

Immediately, Dan began running, but he wasn't fast enough and Phil had caught up with him. "So, you skipped," he said and Dan pulled his phone out.

' _no, i didn't skip_ ', he sent and Phil didn't even bother looking at his phone. Instead, he gave Dan a look of accusation. "If you didn't skip, then why weren't you at school? You certainly don't _look_ ill," he stated and Dan shrugged.

' _i am ill_ ', he typed and this time Phil actually did look at his phone. "What are you talking about?" he asked. ' _can't tell you. you'd think i was weird_ ', was the reply Phil got, and Dan walked the few meters to his house. Unfortunately, Phil followed him, and Dan glared at him but said nothing as Phil followed him inside.

Instantly, he felt self-conscious. His house wasn't anything like Phil's. There was no family picture in the front hall, just a random painting of a vase with roses that had lost most of its color.

"Dan, what's wrong?" he asked and Dan shrugged, then led Phil to his bedroom. The two of them walked inside and Dan closed the door. He looked around his room and found what he was looking for.

Dan walked over to his desk and picked up the mini dry-erase board. He took the marker that was attached to it and scribbled down a few words: _Why are you here and why do you care if I miss school?_

Phil was taken aback by the question, so much so that he had to blink in order to see whether or not it was actually there. "Because, Dan, I actually care about you," he stated and Dan frowned before writing more.

_Well, stop. I don't want you or anyone else to care about me._

It was harsh, and Dan knew that he was basically screaming out that he was severely depressed, but he didn't care.

"Too bad," Phil said before wrapping his arms around Dan, and you know what? Dan let him. He let Phil show him affection, and didn't try to push him away.

Dan wrote on the dry-erase board and showed it to Phil as he smiled.

_Thank you._

* * *

"So, your mum bought you a new piano for your last birthday, but you smashed it?"

Dan nodded and erased what was on the board before writing something new: _yeah and it's probably ashes now._

They'd been talking for a few hours and Phil didn't even care that he hadn't gotten his homework done. "But you might get a new one?" Phil suggested and Dan shook his head as he erased the black words, then wrote more in their place.

_I saw one that I liked but it's £1000. My mum won't spend that much on me, ever, even if it is for a stupid piano._

Dan mentally punched himself in the face. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't call piano stupid, even if it was, and here he was, calling a non-stupid piano stupid.

"What if, maybe... _I_ got it for you?" Phil suggested and Dan shook his head frantically, rushing to erase the dry-erase board and fill it with the word no. He would _not_ let Phil buy him a piano. They were hardly even considered friends. Dan didn't even know _what_ to call them. Acquaintances?

Maybe he could call Phil simply, 'the boy he met on his first day at a new school whom he now apparently hangs out with'. Yes, that worked quite well.

Dan erased the board once again and scribbled a giant _NO PIANO_ across it, then showed it to Phil, who shrugged. "Fine," he said, but with a shit-eating grin, "I won't buy you a piano."

That, Dan decided, was a massive lie. He could easily tell when people were lying, and Phil Lester was definitely lying about him not buying Dan a piano.

Dan pointed at the board and Phil raised his hands in defense. "Fine, fine. I won't get you a piano," he said and Dan smiled. Although he knew Phil was still fibbing, he liked seeing that Phil had also known he was lying.

But then Dan frowned. Phil was getting him a piano, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Phil left not long after, telling Dan that he'd better go to school tomorrow, which Dan had nodded absentmindedly to.

Dan knew he was fucked, so he popped a blue pill and a green pill into his mouth before removing his hoodie.

He glanced over at a full-length mirror before standing up and walking in front of it.

He didn't like how his hips jutted out slightly, or that when he turned he could see his stomach looking more inflated than normal.

Dan stripped down to his boxers in order to fully examine every angle and imperfection. It was no secret that Dan hated himself; at least, it wasn't a secret in his mind. At his last school, he'd spent lunch break in the bathroom, crying and refusing to eat because of how much thinner he'd've rather been.

He frowned at the sight of his thighs, which he noticed were at least thicker than what a male teenager's thighs should be. His arms were thin and awkwardly long, as were his legs in general.

Dan had always hated how tall he was. He hadn't gotten to his current height until recently, but ever since then, he disliked being tall. He came to the conclusion that he was easy to spot, which was a bad thing in his eyes.

Dan looked closer at his face and began making a variety of faces, only to criticize each one. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the corners. His single dimple popped out and he showed his teeth. There were two freckles next to the corner of his mouth that made his dimple look like a sad face: exactly how he felt on the inside.

He could name a lot more that he hated about himself. His hair, for instance. It was naturally curly and when it was straightened, it fell far lower than he would've liked. His eyes were an ugly brown. His nose was too big. He was too pale. Dan could go on and on if he wanted to, the negative thoughts racing through his head, but his insomnia pill had started to kick in and he was going loopy.

"Damn it..." he slurred as he began to sway. When it kicked in, it _really_ kicked in. Dan would feel like he was going tipsy, then immediately he would feel over-drunk and immediately go to pass out—which was beginning to happen.

As soon as Dan's head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.

* * *

Dan was awake bright and early; _far_ too early for his liking, of course, and he groaned when he saw that if was nearly four hours before he actually had to be up. But before he could go back to sleep, there was a knock on the door.

Dan looked at his phone and saw a text from Phil, confirming his suspicions on who it'd be. He yawned, then walked downstairs, carrying the dry-erase board with him.

He wrote on it before opening the door, narrowing his eyes at the seemingly wide-awake teen in front of him. Dan turned the board to face Phil, who nodded. "Yes, I know that it's two-thirty, but I can't stay home," he said and Dan raised a brow in confusion.

He noticed that Phil was wearing pajamas, and held two bags. "Mum and dad are arguing about how they never see each other. I was awake when mum got home, but apparently my dad wasn’t," Phil explained. Dan erased what was on the board and wrote different words in their place.

_So you figured that you would come over here? Fine. Mum's out anyways._

Dan showed it to Phil, and he smiled. Then Phil was led back up to Dan's room, and Dan turned a lamp on.

Phil finally decided to look around Dan's bedroom. There were exactly seven pieces of furniture, and all were the same color: black. Contrasted against the white walls were two posters, one of which Phil gasped at. "I didn't know you liked Muse," he said and Dan nodded.

At another glance around Dan's room, Phil noticed how little detail there was. There were no books on Dan's bookshelves and only a laptop on his desk. His school bag sat on the desk chair and his phone was plugged in, sat on a night table. Phil could only see color if he squinted.

He sat his things next to Dan's dresser and bent down next to the cube shelves. He could see various bands and artists on the binding of CDs, and many of the same bands and artists as he flipped through the vinly records. CDs filled up the bottom two shelves whilst records filled the top two.

"You have more music than I have silverware in my house," Phil said and Dan smiled meekly, shrugging as he lied on his bed.

Dan wrote something on the board and handed it to Phil before tossing him the spare blanket he kept at the end of his bed.

Phil nodded and walked over to the small futon that sat against the wall. He pulled it out as he heard Dan's soft snores, which meant he was asleep.

Phil yawned and took his shoes off before lying down and closing his eyes. Soon, he was asleep as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m trying to post as many chapters as possible (i have abt three more prewritten) so whenever i Do have to write more, y’all won’t be without chapters
> 
> so yh
> 
> prolly gonna post the next three in success tbh


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan has a mental breakdown and a panic attack.

Dan liked order in his life, and he almost never did anything different, so when he woke to find Phil Lester asleep in his room, he was quite confused until he remembered what'd happened early that morning.

He yawned and pulled an orange bottle from his drawer, then poured a pill into his hand and swallowed it before pulling out his phone to call Phil.

Before he could dial Phil's number, the noir-haired teen woke up. Phil yawned just as Dan walked into his closet. He exited with a pair of black Vans and opened his drawers to get jeans and a shirt.

When Phil was fully awake, Dan scribbled something onto the board and showed it to Phil.

_theres a bathroom down the hall for you to change in_

Phil nodded, grabbing one of his bags, and exited Dan's bedroom, leaving Dan alone.

Dan got dressed and went into his bathroom, where he straightened his hair and applied deodorant. When he left the bathroom, Phil was in his bedroom, pulling a pair of red Converse on. He looked up and noticed that Dan was watching him but instead of commenting on how weird it was, he decided to say something about Dan's clothing.

“Do you only own the color black?"

Dan shook his head and grabbed two different t-shirts from his drawer. "Oh, so you also own white and grey. Got it," Phil said sarcastically. "Do you... do you not like color or something?"

Dan erased the board and wrote something else on it.

_i don't hate color, i just don't like wearing it_

It wasn't a complete lie. Dan just didn't want to say that in order for him to wear color, he had to be happy—and since he wasn't happy, he wouldn't wear color. He used to own quite a few colored shirts. His favorite had been a blue Pokémon shirt.

Phil nodded and brushed his fringe from his eyes. As soon as Dan was ready, the two of them left the house and began the walk to school.

"Your mum's not home," Phil noted once they were off their street. Dan pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it before he began typing. ' _she's busy with her job so she's usually gone_ ', he sent and listened for a ding. It came and Phil looked at his phone.

"Doesn't it suck sometimes? Having your mum gone all the time?" he asked and Dan shook his head. After everything that happened before he'd moved to Manchester, he couldn't care less about his mum being gone. It wasn't as if she cared about him or his mental health.

And he almost wanted to say this to Phil; to actually speak to him and use emotions. Behind text and writing on a dry-erase board, there weren't any emotions. It made Dan feel like a robot; unfeeling and non-emotional. He had emotions—way too many for him to keep track of—and he felt too many things at once. It was nearly hectic.

So no, Dan didn't care if his mum was home or not. In fact, he felt much safer knowing that his mother was never home—especially after many previous events when his mother had been involved or around him.

"I mean... I doubt that it's the same, but I feel happier when my dad's gone. He works a lot and I never get to see him, so him being gone is kinda... I don't know, _normal_. And when he's home and awake, it's weird," Phil said.

Dan could vaguely recall his dad being home a lot, but didn't know why. He also remembered that his dad went to the hospital a bit, then to a place called _Connelo Psychiatric Care_. He couldn't remember a time in which his dad wasn't going there, until he turned seven. Then, his dad was no longer gone for two hours on Wednesdays and Fridays. Instead, he kept his normal routine of waking up, going to work at McDonald's, then coming home and eating dinner.

That eventually stopped as well, but Dan decided to push that thought from his mind. When they got to school, they walked to their lockers together and it was completely normal. People had started giving them weird looks though, which Dan was used to. He was used to people staring at him, laughing at him and giving him dirty looks whenever he walked by; at this new school in this new town, it wasn't any different from what he'd been through before.

Dan and Phil being seen together had become almost normal, in a sense. It was almost coincidence— _fate_ , even—that they'd met and had every single lesson together and that their lockers were side-by-side.

But Dan didn't like this new normal, even if it was now his existence, and even _if_ it just happened to further his friendship with Phil.

Dan tried to think of the last friend he had, but sadly there was no memory of a friend or best friend. Phil was the only person he had who was even remotely close to a friend, even if they were acquaintances—well, Dan had decided to only consider Phil as an acquaintance. He didn't want to drag Phil into the mess that was his life.

 _But he knows about your piano and that your mum's never home_ , Dan reminded himself, twisting his combination lock. _He's also buying you a piano_ , the voice in his head rambled on, and he wanted to just bash his head against a wall to make it go away.

Dan screwed his eyes shut and silently begged the voice to shut up.

"Dan? You've been twisting the lock for a few minutes now."

At Phil's voice, Dan stopped himself from twisting the lock any more.

Had Phil's voice _always_ been that soft and gentle?

Dan shook his head and the thought vanished. There, that was better. He knew what happened every time he thought about someone like that; recognizing small traits about them that weren't obvious at first.

Despite Dan's attempt to rid any thoughts of attraction, another one popped into his brain: _Haven't you noticed how nice his eyes are? Blue and green and yellow_. The voice in his head sighed, causing Dan to slam his locker door shut and hurry off to the bathroom where he locked himself in a stall.

No, he _hadn't_ noticed Phil's eyes—but he knew that they were blue, and that Phil's natural hair color was reddish.

Dan noticed that he locked himself inside of a bathroom a lot, whether it be a stall or a bathroom at his house. Actually, he locked himself in rooms quite a lot, especially since his dad had died.

When Dan had found out that his dad was dead, he kept himself locked in his room and he cried. He cried until he couldn't cry anymore, then he was left shaking, filled with silent grief.

"Dan? Are you alright? You were crying when you ran off," Phil soft, angelic voice said from the other side of the stall door. Dan reached up and wiped his eyes, surprised to see that there were fresh tears glistening on his hand.

' _i'm fine_ ', he sent and heard a piano note, although it was muffled because Phil probably had his phone in his pocket. Had Phil changed his text tone?

Dan sniffed, trying to stop himself from crying. He blinked and wiped his eyes on his shirt collar before he opened the stall door. He smiled weakly at Phil and strode out of the bathroom, the blue-eyed boy following closely behind, almost like a puppy.

They walked into English and sat in their normal seats—at the very back right next to each other—and Dan stared up at the plan for that day:

_**Seat work. May be done with or without the partner of your choosing.** _

_Great_ , Dan thought, _just what I've always wanted_. Luckily, it was his decision whether or not he worked alone or not. And he decided that he wouldn't, mainly because he didn't have a pencil and Phil did.

As if they were thinking of the same thing, Phil stared at him expectantly. Dan nodded and Phil smiled, but this smile was _different_ than previous smiles. He smiled with his teeth and did some sort of thing with his tongue that confused Dan, but at the same time it made him feel oddly happy.

Mrs Aiko handed out a large packet of paper to each two-person group she assumed were paired up, then mumbled something in Japanese. Dan's limited understanding of the language told him that she'd said something about wanting to get home as soon as possible. He could see that she was beginning to show as she was pregnant, and Dan found himself wondering whether he'd ever become a dad. Of course, not by having sex with a girl.

No, that was impossible. He was gay after all, so he wouldn't even feel an attraction to a girl long enough for her to have a baby—his baby. So he decided that he'd never have kids.

It brought his mind to Phil, and Dan let his eyes trail over to him. Why did he suddenly care whether or not Phil had kids? It wasn't any of his business. Besides, he didn't know what Phil's sexuality was, or if he even wanted to have kids.

Dan shook the thought from his mind and sighed.

Phil slid a folded up piece of paper towards Dan, who unfolded it.

_Are you okay?_

Dan wrote his response down, then followed it with a question.

_yeah, why?_

He watched as Phil jotted down more words in a rather neat scrawl.

_You're being unusually quiet and staring off into space_

Dan scoffed and scribbled down more words.

_i'm always quiet. i don't talk, remember?_

The silent conversation lasted the entire lesson, and Dan found out more about Phil than he'd already known. For one, Phil wasn't straight. Dan had said something about still being slightly confused about his sexuality (even though he wasn't), and Phil had replied with just a few words that made Dan feel warm inside.

_Well, I'm not. I mean, I'm gay. I've known since I was about 12._

Dan didn't know why Phil being gay made him feel that way, but it did and he couldn't stop his conscience from bugging him about it.

_You love him you love him you love him you love him._

Dan wanted to scream out swear after swear. He didn't love Phil. Hell, they'd known each other for only five days. But then again, maybe he _did_ like Phil. Feelings were strange and he didn't even necessarily know much about love or anything like that.

* * *

School went by much more quickly than Dan had anticipated and his walk home with Phil was relatively silent. Neither of them had said anything about Phil's coming out, and Dan didn't want to bring it up.

So yeah, silence.

Dan hated silence. He always had some music playing or was tapping on a table to avoid it being quiet.

He began to hum and drummed his fingers against his leg. Even then, it was still too damn _quiet_. Eventually he settled on playing a song from his phone, which was met with a sideways glance from Phil.

Out of all of the songs Dan had spent money on, a majority were alternative. There were a few pop songs, but the main genre was alternative. His most recent purchases from iTunes were the remaining tracks on Muse's _Origin of Symmetry_. It was his favorite Muse album, and he'd learned that it was also Phil's.

As soon as the piano riff from _Sunburn_ started, Dan mimed playing each note. This was one of the songs he knew how to play perfectly.

"Are you some sort of music prodigy or something?" Phil suddenly asked and Dan shrugged before nodding, then he shrugged again.

' _im supposed to go to some music school when i graduate but i don't think i want to_ ', he sent and once again, there was a piano note.

"Why not?" Phil asked and Dan shrugged before typing again. ' _my mum wants me to go. i've already been accepted as well_ '.

He'd been accepted to some music school in America that he'd already forgotten the name of, even though he'd never auditioned. He never even knew it existed until his mum had shown him the acceptance letter, which was shoved in the back of his closet, hidden away in a random box he hadn't decided to unpack. He doubted that he'd get to unpacking it any time soon.

A voice began nagging him and he tried to shake it away. _It's not like you'll make it that far anyways_. Dan shuddered at the words, but somewhere deep down, he knew they were right.

He and Phil were on their street, and just three minutes later Dan was sat on his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms were wrapped around them.

He let out shaky breaths as his mind was racing with too many thoughts; thoughts about Phil, about his dad, about music, and more about Phil.

Why Phil? Why would he be thinking about Phil and why couldn't he stop thinking about what it would be like to _kiss him_.

Dan screamed in frustration. The unnatural thoughts were annoying and they gace him a massive headache. His breathing became even more ragged as he fought the urge to cry.

He shouldn't be thinking about Phil, or how his eyes were three different colors, or the way he smiled, or the way he smelled like honey and raspberries. He didn't want to think about Phil.

But at the same time, he did.

And then he thought about kissing Phil again, which made him scream once more.

"No, I don't want to kiss Phil. But I do. No, I don't want to. God, why the fuck is this happening _to me_!"

With each word, his voice became more hoarse and slightly louder until he was screeching. Dan let out more shaky breaths, then he was sobbing and he couldn't stop. His chest was aching and he felt like he couldn't breathe.

He let out more choked cries as he blinked tears away and unlocked his phone with shaking hands.

' _help i sont know what ti do_ ', he sent to Phil and continued crying as he waited for a reply. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think properly and it felt like his entire bedroom was spinning in fast, blurred circles.

Teardrops continued to fall onto his phone screen as there was an almost-immediate reply.

' _What are you talking about?_ '

Dan coughed as the tears continued to fall. He wiped his phone off with his shirt and typed out a barely coherent response. ' _cant breatje dont knoq what to do_ '

There was an immediate reply from Phil's end, which Dan was somewhat grateful for. ' _I'll be there in less than two minutes_ ', it said and Dan let his phone fall from his hands as another sob convulsed through his entire body.

He hated when he got like this—when he couldn't function and had to wait for someone to help him. Sometimes, the person who'd help him only made things worse and he was stuck like this for longer.

Dan curled into a ball as he waited for Phil and the sobs didn't cease, even when Phil entered the room. In fact, they got worse because Dan could see Phil's blue-green-yellow eyes fill with worry and concern.

Dan knew he looked absolutely awful, and now Phil knew.

"Should I... should I call an ambulance or something?" Phil asked, unsure of what to do, and Dan shook his head. He didn't know what to do either, but an ambulance wasn't an option.

Dan wanted Phil to comfort him. He wasn't even going to deny it. He wanted Phil to hold him until he fell asleep, but he doubted that it was even an option.

Dan continued to shake while Phil remained confused. He wanted to help Dan, but he didn't know how.

Dan decided that there was only one option left, and it involved speaking. It was something he'd dreaded for so long, but it was probably the only way he'd be able to calm down.

"Ph-Phil, I er, p-please... I d-don't..." he said shakily, unable to get a proper sentence out, and Phil nodded. He knew exactly what Dan needed now, and wasn't even surprised that Dan had spoken to him.

Dan sat up, allowing Phil to sit on his bed, and lied back into Phil's chest. When Phil wrapped his arms around Dan, he felt safer and immediately began to calm down. Yeah, he felt vulnerable in this state, but his anxiety at the moment was ebbing away and he was starting to be able to breathe more evenly.

Soon, he was completely calm and had begun to fall asleep. He could hear Phil's soft and steady breaths, which told Dan that Phil was fast asleep.

Dan smiled before letting his eyelids fall closed, finding comfort in Phil's fox jumper and the rise and fall of his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so now dan speaks somewhat, but only to phil and only quietly. i have two more prewritten chapters left, then it will take a while to actually put out more. yay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween. Dan reveals to Phil his need to take medication and Phil wants to buy Dan shirts with color.

Dan had always hated Halloween, and this year was no different. However, this year was different in terms of activities. He and Phil were going trick or treating—Phil's idea—and were going to split the candy they got equally.

It'd been a week since Dan's mental breakdown over the realization that he liked Phil as more than a friend, and neither of them had spoken about it. There wasn't so much as a word from either of them and now that Dan spoke—though, it was only to Phil and somewhat inaudible—he was free to stop texting, even though the texting would continue.

Phil was particularly fond of this arrangement because it meant that he got to hear Dan's voice, even if it was only a bit louder than a mumble.

"Are you sure about this, Phil? I mean, we're sixteen and adults usually don't give candy to teenagers," he stated and Phil nodded. "Of course I am! It's Halloween, for god's sake. Why would anyone deny us candy?" he said and Dan shrugged, sighing. He knew perfectly well that they would be denied candy due to the fact that they were nearly adults. Adults didn't go trick or treating, especially as a zombie giraffe and a vampire.

Phil's eyes shone with excitement as Dan applied the rest of his face makeup.

_Scary, not depressed. Intimidating, not broken._

Phil's eyes shone with excitement as Dan applied the rest of his face makeup.

Dan let the corners of his mouth turn up in a small smile as he re-straightened bits of his hair that had gone curly, then glanced at himself in the mirror. The red, black and white of the costume contrasted heavily against his dark hair and pale skin. The dark red makeup crafted specifically for Halloween looked like blood and made the bags under his eyes stand out, even though Dan had used some of his mum's makeup to hide them.

Phil had purchased various makeup items to give his zombie-giraffe idea more 'realism', as he'd put it and Dan realized that Phil had been right as soon as he turned around.

Phil was wearing a giraffe onesie, and his face was done up to look like a zombie. "Not bad," Dan commented softly, his voice just above a whisper. "Not bad yourself," Phil replied, "but it needs something. Hold on."

Phil grabbed a makeup brush from the grocery bad he'd brought over to Dan's house and dug around in the same bag until he held a white powdery substance in his hand. "Apparently girls use it for eyeshadow, but today it'll be used for Halloween," he said and opened it, then took the makeup brush and began dusting the powder all over Dan's face until he was satisfied.

"There! Now you look more-or-less like a _proper_ vampire," Phil decided and Dan blew a strand of hair out of his eyes before pushing it back to where it'd been before Phil had put the powder all over his face.

A small smiled formed on Dan's lips when he looked in the mirror. A zombified giraffe and a vampire. What a strange, yet completely normal combination.

The makeup accentuated Phil's blue eyes perfectly and stood out against his skin, which was a bit paler than Dan's was. Dan swore he could see Phil's eyes light up as they briefly met his own.

"Ready?" Phil asked and Dan nodded. "As much as I'll ever be," he replied, grabbing the bag Phil'd bought for him off of his bed. It was white, with bats and pumpkins and skeletons scattered across the surface. Phil's had a jack o'lantern face on it.

They left Dan's house and began walking up the road towards the houses that were passing out candy. Dan fixed his fringe before he and Phil walked up to a lady sitting on her steps. "Trick or treat!" Phil exclaimed and Dan smiled softly. "He doesn't talk," Phil added swiftly and the lady smiled.

"That's no problem at all! Happy Halloween, boys," she said, putting candy in both of their bags.

The rest of the night went by with similar occurrences, and only one house refused to give them candy. After their bags were filled, Dan and Phil returned to Dan's house and went up to Dan's bedroom, where they emptied their bags onto the carpet and began to divide everything equally after changing into more casual clothing and removing the face makeup.

"It's funny," Dan said suddenly and Phil tilted his head in confusion. "I mean, you're my first friend, and we became friends rather quickly. I didn't trust it at first," Dan explained and closed his eyes for a second. "But now," he breathed as he opened his eyes, "it's not that bad. _You_ aren't that bad."

And it was true. Dan had finally trusted Phil enough to speak to him, and let Phil see him at his lowest. Since that day, just a week prior, Dan couldn't imagine his life without Phil. After that night, he'd thought about Phil being his soulmate, and not in a weird lovey-dovey, _I'm going to marry this person and we're going to spend the rest of our lives together_ type of soulmate—although, Dan liked the idea of them being together all of the time and living together. He even liked the idea of marrying Phil, oddly.

The entire situation with Phil was an odd one. Did he actually like him as more than a friend or was he just infatuated by the idea of Phil? He couldn't tell, but the way Phil's eyes lit up as they were separating candy made his heart flutter.

" _Woosh_ ," Dan whispered, and it was such a low whisper that Phil hadn't heard him. Woosh was the word that described what his heart did each time he interacted with or looked at Phil Lester.

Phil was very pretty, Dan decided. His eyes were a nice combination of green, blue and yellow and the way his hair swept into a perfect fringe in the opposite direction of his was quite amazing.

"Why did you choose for me to be the person you went to for help last Friday?" Phil asked suddenly, surprising Dan. "Why not call 999 or something?"

Dan sighed, shoving his share of the candy into his bag and lying back against his bed. "Mum wasn't home, you're my only friend, my problems aren't exactly severe enough for medical attention," he stated and reached into his bag of candy, searching for a very specific red packaging. He knew there'd been at least four packets in the pile, and when he finally pulled some out, the plastic was immediately ripped open and one was popped into his mouth.

"Maltesers?" Phil asked and Dan nodded. "It's my favorite candy," he said. It was one of the few pieces of chocolate—and candy in general—that he'd eat anymore, but he didn't tell that to Phil.

But there was something he would tell him, even though he knew it would crush him and make him not want to take the medicine.

"There's uh, something I want to... want to show you. We've known each other for long enough and I can consider you as a friend, so... um, yeah, I'll just... just show you."

Dan could feel his hands shaking as he stood up, and he slowly walked the few feet to his night table. He sat down on his bed and opened the drawer.

"N-Now, Phil, close your eyes, please. I– I don't want you to see this before I'm ready to uh... to show you," Dan said and Phil nodded.

Dan pulled the various orange bottles from the drawer and closed it, then brought them over to where he'd been sitting. He slowly set each one down on the floor in place of the candy that was now in his and Phil's bags.

Dan sighed, closing his eyes. This was it. There was no turning back, and he knew that. He couldn't brush it off and have Phil find out about it later. "You can open your eyes now," he said softly and watched as Phil's eyes fluttered open.

Before Phil had a chance to question the bottles, Dan smiled. "Remember the thing that happened last week? Well, that's just the worst of my panic attacks—which are somewhat frequent. This–" Dan picked up the bottle of Xanax, "is usually what I take to avoid them. I only take them when necessary, but I didn't think I'd need them. They were also prescribed to me for anxiety, but I mainly use them to prevent panic attacks," he explained and Phil nodded, saying nothing.

Dan picked up the bottle of green pills and shook it. "I have a _horrible_ time sleeping and going to sleep in general, so these were prescribed to help with that issue," he said, moving the Xanax and insomnia medication to his bed.

"These last three," he began, his hands shaking worse than they'd already been, "are Prozac, Zoloft and Fluoxetine."

Before Dan could explain what they were, Phil frowned. "Antidepressants," he said softly and Dan nodded, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. "Yeah," he whispered and held one up—Prozac. "This one and the green insomnia pill are the only two that are actually mandatory. The rest are as needed. Basically–"

Dan took a deep breath before continuing. "Basically, I take Prozac if I want to masquerade as a normal human being: happy, carefree, etcetera. I combine it with the other two if I don't want to feel anything at all—if I want to feel _numb_ ," he stated, accentuating the last word.

"Are you... alright? Physically, I mean," Phil asked and Dan shrugged. He knew that he was at the moment, but didn't know if he was physically okay in general. So he stuck with shrugging.

"What about emotionally?" Phil inquired and Dan shrugged. "My emotions are hell, Phil. I can't even decide how I– whether I'm happy or sad," he stated, stopping himself from telling Phil that he felt something for him.

"What about you? Are you happy?" Dan asked and this time it was Phil's turn to shrug. "I'm happy enough to where I don't have to take a pill to make me happy, if that makes any sense," he replied and Dan nodded.

After that, they were silent. Dan stood up and put his medication back into the drawer in his night table, then sat back down.

"Are you sure your mum's alright with you staying over all weekend?" Dan asked and Phil nodded. "Yeah, she's happy I'm finally out of the house and that I won't be around in case she and my dad start arguing," he said, putting his candy bag next to Dan's futon. It'd been Phil's designated spot to sit whenever he was at Dan's house, which was quite often, and it was quite comfortable.

They were both in their pajamas—well, _Phil_ was in emoji pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. Dan stuck with dark grey sweatpants and a Yeezy t-shirt. Phil had commented on the amount of color in Dan's t-shirt and Dan had sarcastically replied with how much color there was in Phil's pajama bottoms.

"Why do you hate color?" Phil asked. "I don't," Dan replied, "I just don't wear it. I'm not gonna say it again. Wait, lemme just repeat it once more: I like color. My favorite color is red. I just don't wear color. I'm not happy enough to wear color."

Phil grinned. "Well, what if I got you a shirt with color? Would you wear color then?" he asked and Dan shook his head. "Not gonna happen," he replied.

"Come on, Dan! A life without color isn't a life worth living," Phil stated and Dan shrugged. "I like the absence of color in my life," he retorted, a smirk playing on his lips. "Just _one_ shirt, please Dan? It doesn't even have to be a bright color, just some color," Phil begged and Dan shook his head.

"No, Phil. I don't want any colored clothing. I like wearing monochrome colors. It's what I'm comfortable in," he said and Phil pouted. "But what if I found a shirt that you'd like?" he asked and Dan sighed. Then he nodded. " _Fine_. One colored shirt. No more, no less... got it?"

Phil nodded. "Of course. Besides, my mum tells me that I'm great at picking clothes out for other people," he said and Dan shook his head, laughing softly. Phil had won an argument, yet again, and now Dan would be getting both a piano and a shirt with colors.

Damn Phil, and damn his persuasiveness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter is the last one that i have prewritten at the moment, so it might take a while for me to put out chapter 7 tbh
> 
> [sunday, december 22, 2019]


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil buys Dan shirts, Dan meets Phil’s mum and spends the night at Phil’s house; revelations as to why Dan’s so severely depressed.

"Phil Lester, what are you on about? Fall Out Boy's new album is far less superior than Folie á Deux!"

Phil shook his head. "You must be mistaken, Dan Howell. American Beauty/American Psycho is a _much_ better album than stupid Folie á Deux," he retorted.

"Philip, you are the one who's mistaken. Pre-hiatus Fall Out Boy was better in every way, shape and form. Their stuff from before 2013 is _easily_ their best work," Dan stated, narrowing his eyes.

"You should go see a therapist," Phil said.

"Already have. More than once."

"Speaking of which, did you take your medicine today?" Phil asked quietly and Dan nodded. "I usually do. Well, except for the times when I forget to—but I did this time, honestly," he said.

Ever since Dan had shown Phil his medication just three days prior, the latter had made it his mission to make sure Dan took it, even if it meant being at Dan's house before he went to bed and right as he woke up.

"You don't have to worry about me, Phil. Really, there are other things that need far more worrying than me," Dan said, picking a fry up from his tray and dipping it in ketchup. "Don't be an idiot, Dan. You're just as important as anyone or anything else," Phil said and Dan shrugged before putting his fry in his mouth. "Whatever you say, Lester," he replied through a mouthful of fry.

"Oh yeah, by the way, I'm getting your shirt today after school. My mum's gonna take me as soon as I get home," Phil said and Dan nodded. "Remember, one shirt. _One_. No more," he stated. "Okay, okay. One shirt," Phil repeated and Dan smiled, satisfied with Phil's compliance.

* * *

Apparently, Phil had lied—just as Dan had predicted.

Dan was scrolling through Tumblr when Phil knocked on his bedroom door. "Come in!" Dan rasped out and Phil opened the door, holding a couple shopping bags. "Phil!" Dan exclaimed. "I said one shirt, not one thousand."

Phil shook his head. "I didn't get you a thousand shirts, Dan. I may have gotten you more than one, but I didn't spend thousands of dollars on shirts," he stated, putting the bags on the futon he now shared ownership of and pulling out shirts one by one.

"This is the best one, obviously," Phil said and Dan raised a brow. It was a red and black button up. The next shirt was a camouflage long-sleeve that said _SEASON 2_ on the front in small lettering. "I cannot _wait_ for camo jokes," Dan deadpanned and Phil laughed.

Then came a plaid sweater with a dog on the front. "I like red, but not _that_ much. Anyways, this has to be it... right?" Dan asked and Phil shook his head. "There's more, trust me," he said.

"Oh joy," he retorted as Phil pulled a long-sleeved shirt out that Dan was skeptical of. "Phil... that's got pink and purple in it," he said and Phul shrugged. "And? It'll look nice on you," he retorted.

The final piece of clothing was a navy blue sweatshirt. "I hope I got you the right sizes; mum said that I should look before getting you anything, so I _kinda_ went through your closet and drawers," Phil said, cowering in faux fear. "I mean, at least it'll be accurate and they will probably fit me," Dan stated.

"Well, go try things on, coward. If something doesn't fit, I can easily take it back," Phil said and Dan nodded, taking the shirts into the bathroom with him.

The first one Dan tried on was the camouflage shirt, and he looked in the bathroom mirror. It was a size bigger than he'd normally wear, but it was barely noticeable. "If only camouflage actually made someone invisible," he said to himself before trying the other shirts on, and they all fit perfectly. Not too big and not too small, and he actually liked everything—which was a rarity, and the reason he never let anyone buy him clothing. He liked to make sure he would wear it more than once instead of wearing it once and never touching it again. And if someone bought him something he didn't like, he'd immediately hide it away and never wear it.

Dan changed back into his plain black t-shirt and stuffed the shirts back into the bag they'd come in. "They all fit quite well; I'm actually surprised," he said and Phil grinned. That awfully cute grin that Dan loved so much. "Do you like them? My mum picked out the galaxy one."

Dan nodded. "Yeah, I actually do. It's the perfect amount of color for me, and I still have loads more black clothing," he said and began to put everything away.

When he finished, Phil's eyes widened as if he'd just remembered something. "By the way, we've gotta go to my house. My mum wants to meet you. She said she wants to know who I've been hanging out with lately. Don't worry, if you _do_ agree to come over, she doesn't have to know about things like your medication and lack of speaking—if you don't want her to," he said and Dan nodded. "I'll be fine talking around her. If she cares that much about me to make sure you get me the right shirt sizes, then why shouldn't I speak around her?"

* * *

An hour later, Dan and Phil were stepping into the bright blue house Dan had only ever been in once. "Mum, I'm home! And I brought someone to meet you!" Phil yelled, then turned to Dan. "My mum has the day off and my dad's working, so we can be as loud as we want," he said, then his face grew red as he realized how wrong it'd sounded. Dan laughed softly just as a woman he assumed to be Phil's mum stepped into the front hall.

"Mum, this is Dan. You know, the one I bought clothes for," Phil said and Dan smiled, waving. "Hi," he said and Phil's mum smiled. "You are so adorable. And look at that! You've got dimples! How cute," she said. Dan immediately liked her.

"Dan, this is my mum, Kathryn," Phil introduced and Phil's mum shook her head. "Please, call me Kath," she corrected and Dan smiled. "Nice to meet you," he said softly. "Wow, he's polite _and_ he's adorable? Phil, I think I might have to replace you," Kath joked and Phil laughed.

Dan liked Phil's laugh. It was better than his own in every way.

"Dan, are you hungry? I just made dinner. It's chicken, potatoes and corn," Kath asked and Dan nodded. "Thank you, Kath," he said and she smiled.

Kath went into the kitchen and Phil led Dan up to his room. Dan sat in Phil's desk chair and Phil sat on his bed. "Hey, uh, Dan? Do you want to, um, stay here tonight, since your mum's not home?" Phil asked and Dan shrugged. "It's a school night, Phil. I doubt I'd be allowed to stay," he said and Phil smirked. "You've got nothing to worry about, Dan. My mum likes you. All I have to say is that your mum's out of town for the week, then _bam_! Sleepover."

Dan was skeptical of Phil's plan, but he shrugged and nodded. "Fine, but if she says yes, we'd have to go back to my house anyway. _Hopefully_ you didn't forget about the... _you know what_ ," he said and Phil shook his head. "No, no, I didn't forget."

Just then, Kath was calling them downstairs to eat. "C'mon," Phil said, "let's eat. I'll ask her after we're done." Dan nodded and followed Phil out of the room and down the stairs.

Dan had never been in Phil's kitchen before now, and was in awe at how much time Kath had put into it. It was spotless and everything had a label. The walls were a nice mint color, the appliances matched perfectly and the countertops, cabinets and drawers didn't clash with the color of the walls. Dan could see a table in the corner with four chairs. Fancy cutlery was set in front of three of the chairs, and there were three glasses.

"Dan, what would you like to drink?" Kath asked, opening the refrigerator. "We have water, and milk, and juice. There's also champagne and wine, but since you both have school tomorrow, that's off-limits."

"Water's fine," Dan said and Kath nodded, taking one of the glasses off of the table as he sat down. "Ice or no ice?" Kath asked and Dan shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me. I drink water with and without ice," he said. "Ice it is," Kath replied and Dan watched as she added ice cubes to the glass before pouring water over it.

When Kath had set the glass down, she and Phil sat down at the table. Phil was on Dan's left side and Kath was on Phil's left.

"So Dan," Kath began, "tell me about yourself. Do you have any hobbies? How are you doing in school?"

Phil's mum acted like she was interviewing him for a job. "Uh, well, I like music, I guess. And um, I like... well, I like... uh. I'm doing okay in school, I guess, and I'd probably be failing if it weren't for Phil," Dan said, never meeting Kath's eyes, which were a lot like Phil's.

Much to Dan's relief, no more questions were asked and they ate in silence. However, once Phil had finished, it was the moment Dan was dreading.

"Mum, can I ask you something?"

Dan put his head on the table and immediately felt himself begin to sweat profusely.

"Yes, what is it, Phil?" Kath asked and Phil smiled. "Can Dan stay over tonight? His mum's out of town until next week and–"

"Oh, Phil, of course he can stay. He can stay for as long as he'd like to."

Dan felt his heart beginning to race. He would be sleeping in Phil's bedroom—and probably even in his _bed_ (no, wait... too unrealistic).

"Great," Phil said, "come on, Dan."

Dan lifted his head up and let his eyes wander over to Phil. "What? Where... where are we going?" he asked tiredly as Kath left the kitchen. " _You_ are going up to my room. I, however, am going to your house," Phil said and Dan's eyes widened. "Don't worry," Phil continued, "I'm only going there to get you clothes for tomorrow and the two pills you need."

Dan stood up and Phil led him to his bedroom. "It's currently... nine pm, leaving exactly one hour until I have to actually be inside. However," Phil said when they'd actually entered his room, "it'll only take me approximately thirty minutes to get to your house, get your things, lock your front door and get back over here."

Dan nodded. "Uh, where do I... where would I sleep?" he asked, looking around Phil's bedroom. Phil shrugged. "Well um, my bed is uh... big enough, I guess. When I turned sixteen, my parents traded my old double bed for a king size," he said and Dan raised a brow in confusion. "Traded?"

"Yeah, the place where I got my double bed has a trade policy-thing on mattresses," Phil replied and Dan nodded, sitting on the side of Phil's bed that looked unslept on.

Phil left the room and moments later Dan heard the front door open. When he heard it close, he let out a sigh and lied down, one foot on the bed and the other on the floor. After deciding that Phil might not've wanted shoes on his bed, Dan pulled his off and put them next to the bed.

Dan let out another sigh and closed his eyes, then let his breathing slow. This was the calmest he'd ever been and the first time in years that he felt safe; not like he was in danger. He had to constantly remind himself of the lack of danger when he was around Phil.

Dan knew Phil wasn't dangerous; in fact, Phil Lester was the complete _opposite_ of it. But in the back of Dan's mind, he still feared being alone with him—just in case; not that anything would go wrong. He hoped nothing would. Phil didn't seem like the type of person to do _something_ , but Dan wanted to keep his guard up.

Minutes went by and Dan had begun to drift off, but as he was about to, Phil opened the door and Dan sat up immediately. "I grabbed clothes, your backpack, phone charger and the two pill bottles you need," Phil explained, handing Dan's backpack to him. "Thanks," he said, unzipping the bag and rummaging through it.

"By the way, there's an outlet on that side of the bed," Phil stated and Dan nodded as he retrieved his pill bottles from the mess inside his backpack. He pulled his phone charger from the bag and plugged it into the outlet Phil had mentioned, then connected his phone to it.

A bit more rummaging through the back revealed that there was also a pair of sweatpants. "I looked for a pair of pajamas as well, but could only find sweatpants," Phil explained. "Well, I only wear sweatpants to bed," Dan replied, standing up.

"You can change in the bathroom," Phil said, pointing to a door near the bed, "and I have an extra toothbrush in the bottom left drawer if you need it. You could just use my toothpaste."

Dan nodded, taking his sweatpants into the bathroom and closing the door. His black jeans were traded for the sweatpants and he stood in front of the mirror. Him staying the night—or possibly longer—at Phil's house and sleeping in his bed was happening far sooner than intended. Actually, Dan hadn't planned on sleeping in Phil's house at all.

But here he was, staring into Phil's bathroom mirror, millions of unwanted thoughts rushing through his brain. Thoughts about how much he wanted to kiss Phil, how much he wanted Phil to hold him; how much he wanted to be around Phil in general.

Once he'd brushed his teeth using the spare toothbrush and Phil's minty toothpaste, Dan exited the bathroom to see Phil sat on the bed with his phone in his hands. Phil looked up as Dan closed the door and put his jeans next to his bag.

"Oh, you're out. Do you need a glass of water?" he asked and Dan nodded, sitting down and opening the bottle of Prozac. When Phil returned with the water, Dan took a pill and closed the bottle again.

"So," Phil began, "explain the Prozac and insomnia pill." Dan let out a sigh. "Well, I have to take Prozac three times a day—morning, afternoon and night—and the insomnia medication at night before I go to bed," he explained. "And seeing as I'm not all that tired yet, nor am I ready to go to bed yet, the green pill will not be taken."

Phil nodded and Dan set the glass between his legs. "So, Phil, what's your family like?" he asked, which surprised Phil. Nobody had ever asked him about his family. "Well," he began, "mum and dad work a lot, and have completely different schedules. My brother's still at University for another two years and barely comes home on holidays."

Dan was silent, even more than usual; that is, until Phil decided to ask him a question. "Any big secrets?" was the question Phil'd decided on. " _Fuck_ ," Dan said under his breath. There were so many things he considered to be secret.

One, he was gay.

Two, he had a massive crush on Phil, and it was the reason for his most recent panic attack.

Three, his dad killed himself.

And four, he was sexually assaulted by his stepdad and a kid at school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is the last chapter i have prewritten, so it’s the last update until whenever. four revelations; four reasons why dan hates himself. yh, kinda depressing.

**Author's Note:**

> this is just the introduction, and the fic will hopefully get better as it goes on. i have a plan for 120 chapters total, but i highly doubt it’ll be that much so for now, the number is unknown
> 
> chapter 2 will (hopefully) be posted tomorrow if i’m not too busy


End file.
